


2 Times Andrew Stole Kevin's Jackets + the 1 Time Kevin Knew What It Meant

by ihaveacleverfandomurl



Series: Tumblr Oneshot Prompts [3]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Canon, Banter, Fluff, M/M, Sharing Clothes, Slow Burn, not really but kevin is oblivious af til the end lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:53:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23636368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihaveacleverfandomurl/pseuds/ihaveacleverfandomurl
Summary: Andrew steals Kevin's jackets. Kevin doesn't get why he likes it.
Relationships: Kevin Day/Andrew Minyard
Series: Tumblr Oneshot Prompts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624054
Comments: 8
Kudos: 108
Collections: My Bookmark





	1. Bomber Jacket

**Author's Note:**

> [Prompt](https://foxy-exy.tumblr.com/post/612772330111926272/kandrew-andrew-stealing-kevins-jackets): "Kandrew: Andrew stealing Kevin’s jackets?" by anonymous!  
> Finally stickin' this up on ao3 for the few Kandrew fans,, bless u for multishipping with me  
> i love how i stubbornly keep calling these "tumblr oneshots" when they never are anymore lol  
> (also i beg you,,, comments are what i live off of i will adore you if you leave one)

Kevin’s left hand aches as he slams another ball into the corner of the court, rebounding once, twice, three times before it hits its intended target: a hideously neon orange cone that skids halfway across the court in the wake of the ball.

He straightens and blinks away perspiration, pulling the front of his shirt up to swipe at his face. It’s late, and dark in the stadium. He doesn’t think he has much of an audience as he shakes out his hand and pulls another ball from the bucket at his feet. As he repeats the drill down the line of cones, he only feels a slight buzz of satisfaction — accomplishments had never been for gloating over, they were to be analyzed and streamlined further — and doesn’t miss once until he’s lining up his last shot and the echo of a slow clap throws him off.

He jolts and the ball shoots past the cone, half an inch away. Kevin curses and spins to Andrew, who is leaned against the now open court door, an eyebrow raised in sarcastic acclaim.

“Great job, Kevin. Shame you never actually _use_ that hand in games.”

“Fuck off.”

Andrew smiles humorlessly as he folds his arms. “I’m tired. We’re going.”

“Clean up, then.” Kevin feels hot and sweaty and the kind of angrily ashamed that Andrew seems to know just how to needle out of him, and he needs a fucking shower. He shoves his racquet into Andrew’s chest as he brushes by, and turns in surprise when Andrew actually takes it — almost stops entirely in his beeline for the locker rooms when Andrew slings the racquet over his shoulders and actually heads into the court for the mess Kevin left of the corner.

Andrew cuts a bulkier figure than usual, Kevin absently thinks as he backs towards the door (maybe a bit closer to a snail’s pace than he’d like to admit). The bomber jacket he wears is too big on him, sleeves rolled up a little and hem landing mid-thigh. It looks strangely familiar, though.

He doesn’t connect the dots til he’s out of the shower and pulling on his clean clothes — sleep sweats and a T-shirt and —

And his coat’s missing.

Kevin stares into his empty locker but all he can see is Andrew, wearing his jacket. Swimming in it.

He turns around when Andrew enters the locker room, hands buried in the pockets of the pilfered coat.

“That’s mine,” Kevin says.

“Shame,” Andrew says again. “I’m wearing it.”

Kevin doesn’t know what to say anymore. He just kind of awkwardly shuts his locker. His eyes don’t seem to be listening to his brain, which is insisting that looking away from Andrew wearing his clothes is very important. But instead he’s stuck looking at the way the collar frames Andrew’s jaw, the brown leather stretching across his shoulders.

He locks up in silence, Andrew waiting at the exterior door looking as bored as ever, apparently entirely unmoved even as Kevin feels like a live wire.

They’re walking back to the car when he finally manages, “You barely even wear anything but black.”

Except the buttery, light brown looks good on him.

“It’s too fucking cold in the stadium after hours,” Andrew says, casually, and ducks into the car.

They don’t say anything on the ride back.

Andrew keeps the jacket.


	2. Sweatshirt

The second week of their winter break dawns dark on the house in Columbia — and it’s emptier than usual. Not only is Aaron absent, but Nicky, too, flew off to spend Christmas with his significant other. Kevin isn’t sure how to process the house devoid of Nicky’s energy or Aaron’s quiet if often sullen presence. Columbia alone with Andrew means they have to fill the time with something alone, _together_ , and Andrew has vetoed spending the entire break playing Exy. It’s setting Kevin on edge, especially since the night of The Jacket Incident.

He picks at his oatmeal now and tries to think. He’s already watched and rewatched the latest college league highlights of their upcoming opponents. Read every Exy magazine issue he’d brought with him, cover to cover. Listened to the podcast interviews, played the YouTube top tens, scanned the online articles.

It’s the crack of dawn because if Kevin must get in a workout at a gym off campus, he’s going to do it as early as possible, before others wake up and he has to deal with…people. His small shadow is never up at this hour, which is why the click of the door jamb and the creak of the floorboards have Kevin’s head snapping up.

A bleary-looking Andrew wanders in, eyes only half open. He slopes towards the pantry and emerges with a sugary cereal clutched in his besweatered hands.

Kevin eyes the sweatshirt he’s wearing suspiciously — big enough to hang down over his fingers and again, curiously, a color. Too much of a color for Andrew’s wardrobe.

No, that burnt orange hoodie belongs in Kevin’s drawer. And fuck if Kevin is going to let it slide without any real comment this time. He knows how to _talk_ , goddammit, he’s _Kevin Day_ and he’s been on _live TV interviews_.

“Why are you wearing —” he starts, and wrinkles his nose when Andrew reaches into the box to scoop out a handful of artificially brightly colored cereal, getting a rainbow of crumbs and dust on the sleeves.

Andrew crunches through three of these disgusting looking palmfuls before he raises his eyes to Kevin’s, and one of his eyebrows goes with them, arched in silent challenge.

“The sweatshirt,” Kevin says. “It isn’t yours.” He has a sinking feeling that his dry mouth and the slight choking quality of his voice isn’t lending towards more words than last time.

“Stole it,” is all Andrew says in a rusty voice before tossing the box at Kevin and vanishing back towards his room, to presumably…sleep some more. In Kevin’s sweatshirt, maybe with the hood pulled up over his rumpled blond hair, and, uh…

Kevin doesn’t follow to — what, reclaim it? Demand more of an answer? _(See if that mental image stood up to the real thing?)_ — because his heart is beating too fast, and because he is a coward.

He doesn’t get that sweatshirt back, either.


	3. Jersey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's not a jacket,,,,,  
> it's better

Attending Eden’s as a pair holds a strange electricity that has Kevin shifting and crossing his arms and wondering just when this feeling will end and when they’ll go back to the way they’ve always been. Andrew smokes as they wait for a parking pass, expressionless as ever.

He is wearing a slim black coat buttoned all the way up against the cold tonight - it fits him well, it’s actually his this time.

Kevin doesn’t know why it’s almost disappointing to see it.

“Go in, then.”

He looks at Andrew, who’s taking a pass from a bouncer, and stumbles over, “Alone?”

“Oh, parking will be far more riveting than getting our drinks, I’m sure.” Andrew swings his keys around a finger and sends Kevin a Look, so Kevin goes.

It is dark and loud and Roland smiles and nods at Kevin when they make eye contact, pulling out a bottle and a tray, sliding a quickly poured glass down the bar to him.

The table Kevin retreats to is in a yet darker corner, and he’s too focused on pretending that he feels fine and not on edge, a bundle of nerves, an anxious mess. He doesn’t see Andrew until he’s right in front of him, until he says, “Kevin.”

Kevin looks down and spits vodka.

Andrew’s coat is open over an orange jersey, but it is not his number. It’s Kevin’s 02 across his chest.

Kevin’s fingers hover over Andrew’s lapel, to pull open the coat, to grab onto something, to touch and confirm that yes - Andrew Minyard is in front of him, wearing his jersey.

“Is that a clear enough message?” Andrew asks, and Kevin swipes at his soaked front and lets Andrew pull his drink out of his hand and take his own sip as he hops up onto a bar stool.

“You, you wanna…” he trails off. Andrew’s fingers close around his.

“Yes,” Andrew says.

Kevin’s hand finds the jersey fabric, and Andrew’s, the hair at the back of Kevin’s head.

Even with Andrew seated on the stool, Kevin has to bend for Andrew’s mouth, hesitates, feels Andrew’s tug, and meets him in the middle. The bite of the booze is nothing to Andrew’s teeth in his lip and Kevin wonders in a haze how long he’s been waiting for this without acknowledging it to himself.

When they break apart, Roland’s tray of drinks is sitting beside them, and Andrew traces the rim of a glass with a slightly shaking finger as Kevin shoves his hands into his pockets and thinks that this beats a cracker high any day.

“I should have known appealing to your ego and your Exy kink would be what it took to finally get through your thick skull, Kevin Day.” Andrew’s eyes are very dark over the top of his drink.

Kevin gulps a shot and says, “Is that what all that was?”

Andrew says, “I will kill you.”

“When you went to all that trouble?” Kevin chews back a grin as he looks down at his pilfered jersey again.

“They won’t find your body.”

“Don’t you want to take the coat off?”

“Would you rather see your name on the back or keep your lungs intact?”

“Can’t kiss you if I can’t breathe,” Kevin says, hovering closer again, and Andrew appears to consider this as his eyes drift and stick to Kevin’s lips. He fully closes the distance and proves that, in fact, Kevin can kiss him in a state of complete breathlessness.

The jersey returns to Kevin’s locker, and his jacket and sweatshirt are deposited back onto his pillow.

But if Kevin’s letterman with the giant DAY across the back finds its new permanent home in Andrew’s closet, well. No one but a few sharp-eyed Foxes and a grinning Roland have to know.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to chat to me about aftg on tumblr @ [foxy-exy](https://foxy-exy.tumblr.com/)!  
> And here's [& my cosplay instagram](https://www.instagram.com/kayizcray/) with some aftg cosplay on it!  
> -  
> comments keep me goin, please please do leave em ;_;  
> 


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